Ayahuasca Will Make You Cry, Vomit, and Feel Amazing

I spent Saturday night
rolling on the floor of a loft apartment in the Prenzlauer Berg neighborhood of
Berlin. When
I wasn't rolling, I was in the bathroom shoving my fingers down my throat, or
sitting on the john trying to take a dump. I cried like a mother at a wedding. I
kicked my feet in the air like dogs do when they're sleeping, and on one
occasion—in tandem with the feet—I let my hands dance in front of my face like
the last raver in the field on the last night of summer.

For what felt like three days,
I went from bathroom to floor and back again. When I finally got it together
enough to wobble onto the balcony and smoke a cigarette, I realized I'd only
been under for four hours. Ayahuasca, yagé, the truth vine, the madre, or
whatever you call it was not only the strongest drug I've ever tried but easily
the most powerful experience I've ever had.

It's also illegal in Germany, so in
order to do it, you have to know someone who knows someone who knows whichever
shaman is in town giving out the goofy juice that week. And it's not cheap—it
costs upwards of $230 per session. Once you're on the shaman's list, you
receive an email explaining how you should prepare for the ceremony. No sex, no
meat, no dairy, no salt, and no other drugs for a week beforehand. The address
is kept secret until the final day.

You're told to pack a mat, a
blanket, a bottle of water, some fruit, and a bucket with a lid so you can puke
into it and then throw it away. I didn't have a bucket, so I brought a beaker
with a seal and then spent the whole way there, and much of the ceremony, worrying
that it wouldn't be big enough to hold all my chunks when I eventually blew
them.

Ayahuasca has become quite
popular in yoga circles and, even though it embarrasses me a little to put
these three words together, the "Berlin
meditation scene." For late thirtysomething affluent vegans who don't go
to clubs anymore and who spend Christmas in India so they don't have to visit
their parents, it's about as hip as partner swapping.

There were about 25 people
in the apartment when I arrived, and my friends weren't even there yet, so I
mingled with a bunch of people stretching in Thai pants or lying on the floor
petting one another. The room was hot with bodies. I sat in a corner. Beside me
was an American kid whose psychiatrist had actually prescribed the ceremony.

"I was pretty heavily
addicted to pot," he said.

"What kind of
psychiatrist prescribes this?" I asked.

"An expensive one,"
he said.

'It works?"

"Yes," he said.

There was a German guy at my
feet tucked under a duvet on a blow-up bed.

"It's your first time,"
he said knowingly.

"Yes. What should I
expect?"

"The universe," he
said. "I hope you get to see the universe."

And then everyone lay down
while the shaman, a guy with a beard and a ponytail and skin the color of
stained mahogany, began to explain what was about to happen to us. I can't
recall much of what he said, because what happened next was insane. Ayahuasca
is comparable to other drugs but only in a way that walking briskly with your
arms outstretched is comparable to flying.

It's very hard to put the
experience into words, but here goes:

The beginning—let's call
this the good part—started off with the shadows on the walls losing shape and
tiny golden trails zipping in front of my eyes. So far, pretty normal for
anyone who's taken acid, mushrooms, or trippy pills. On either side of me, people
were dry-heaving into their buckets. They made a noise like cows being impaled
on traffic signs. But I wasn't nauseous. Fuck no! At that time, I was dropping
into a panoramic collage of fractals and bright colors and jungle foliage and
extreme well-being. With no exaggeration, I can say that moment was probably
the most blissed-out of my whole life. And I don't give that away lightly. I
was a child of rave, and I spent a good chunk of the last decade hugging
strangers and licking my eyebrows and worrying about how much water I had or
hadn't drunk.

It was like the universe was
wrapping me in giant mutating arms and filling me full of love. I saw God, and
I was God, and everything was God.

For most of this part, the
good part, I just lay on my back with my eyes closed in a little euphoric
bubble. And if only that could have lasted—because, pretty soon, the bad part
kicked in. In one incident after the next, I revisited traumatic chapters of my
childhood. It played out like some celebrity retrospective—only instead of
showing the best clips from my long career, I was forced to witness the moments
that had bruised me most. I was in the womb feeling my family's stress, in
school running from bullies, and in my teenage bedroom listening to Smashing
Pumpkins while writing poetry with rhymes like "blunt knives" and "short
lives."

In the middle of this trip
down misery lane, I broke out in feverish sweat and felt the need to puke. But
like I said, I was worried my container wouldn't handle my load, so I got up
and wobbled to the bathroom. My stomach was a mess, but I couldn't puke, so I
tried to shit. Somehow I'd got it into my head that the only way to end this
hell-ride was to push the ayahuasca out of my body through whichever hole was
most compliant. Some drugs allow you to look at yourself from a distance. If
that had been the case, I imagine I'd be looking at myself doing some kind of
twerk-cum-lapdance for the toilet bowl's pleasure, with my track pants around
my ankles.

Defeated, I went back out to
the room, lay down on my mat, and suffered. Really suffered. When I wasn't terrified,
I was crying big tears of sadness. The golden trails would come and go, and I
do remember seeing my penis presented in front of me as a giant tower reaching
into the clouds—which was kind of cool—but for the most part, I was in seven
circles of plant-based hell.

Some time later, I saw my
friends creeping out of the room onto the balcony, and I worked up the courage
to follow them. Imagine a plane crash, where the front of the plane explodes in
two and the rear somehow lands on flat ground and everyone from Row F backwards
survives. Picture the survivor's faces. That's how we looked.

We hung out on the balcony
for a while smoking, occasionally puking into buckets, and trying to make sense
of things until someone offered to drive us all home, which was a great and
horrible idea because I never would have gotten home on my own, but the driver
couldn't distinguish between red and green yet.

They say that one night of
ayahuasca is like ten years seeing a psychiatrist. It is not a recreational
drug. Afterwards, on the way home, we talked about going to a club, but in the
end, all we really wanted was to be wrapped up in cotton wool and left in a
corner with fresh water.

I fell asleep and the next
day woke up early, feeling amazing. And for now, that's how things have stayed.
Ordinarily I'm pretty anxious. I'm not a good sleeper, I'm shy, and I'm pretty
horrible at making decisions. But so far, all that's disappeared. Whatever
happened that night shook my little blockages free—or, as a psychiatrist would
put it, broke my coping habits.

In the Amazon, if you go on
an ayahuasca retreat, you normally spend three long nights in a row sifting
through all your shit. In the first few hours after coming down, I thought I'd
never smoke a joint again—let alone consider ayahuasca again. However, now I'm
pretty sure I would. Watching all the traumatic experiences that have touched
your life sweep past like a dream helps to place them in perspective: They're
over. In a way, it takes you back to your original essence in nature, and that's
no bad thing if, like me, your regular connection with nature is watching your
tomato plants slowly die on the windowsill each summer.

Oh, and seeing your dick as
tall as a building, rendered from solid, impenetrable stone is something all
insecure young boys, who grow into secretly insecure men, need to see at least
twice.

Ayahuasca Will Make You Cry, Vomit, and Feel Amazing4.55Josh Murdoch I spent Saturday night rolling on the floor of a loft apartment in the Prenzlauer Berg neighborhood of Berlin . When I wasn't rollin...

2 comments:

hi, you described that the experience was like hell-ride and I confirm that it truly is. by this drug you open your inner being to something really evil. our bodies are vessels and they can contain Holy Spirit presence which definitely doesn´t cause any of the wrong feelings or we can open ourselves by this procedure to the demonic spirits which are able to wrapps themselves into light but then causes all those evil experiences. Your behaviour has changed because of influence of these spirits.

2 Corinthians 11:14And no wonder, for even Satan disguises himself as an angel of light.

the God, who I know, is only pure love and mercy without any shadow of darkness and makes everything for good of everyone.

James 1:17Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change. 1 John 4:16So we have come to know and to believe the love that God has for us. God is love, and whoever abides in love abides in God, and God abides in him.

human beings were made to be a vessel for God´s spirit not for demonic spirits

Romans 9:23-24in order to make known the riches of his glory for vessels of mercy, which he has prepared beforehand for glory— even us whom he has called, not from the Jews only but also from the Gentiles.

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